To Help A Friend
by condesce
Summary: Alfred is left to look after a drunken Arthur. As usual. / USUK- friendship and/or implied romance.


Alfred was used to Arthur's drinking binges. He was used to walking to the pub and carrying the near-unconscious British man and helping him sober up.

Alfred was used to going to the pub to find Arthur, _not _the side of the road.

As he walked down the street, he had to squint to make sure he was seeing correctly. He picked up his pace a little and was now jogging towards the man with unruly blond hair. Said man was sprawled out on the path and was currently talking to himself.

This was just fabulous. Absolutely fabulous.

As Alfred slowed to a walk once more he could see that the other nation was shivering a little. Well, this was just great. He didn't know how long Arthur had been out here and he didn't even know why. Was he kicked out of a pub? Had he come here on his own free will?

Alfred looked down at the man's hand and saw a bottle of rum that was half empty. So that explains it.

Sort of.

"Arthur?" The American nation stopped and knelt beside the other and frowned a little. The Englishman didn't so much as bat an eyelash at the younger man. He lay on the path and continued to look up at the sky. Alfred frowned a little deeper and reached out to touch his friend's arm.

"Arthur!" he said a little louder, "What are you doing out here? You're gunna catch a cold!"

It took Arthur a moment but he finally decided to acknowledge the other nation and he looked over at him. Then he laughed. He laughed and he laughed until Alfred thought the tears may fall. However it wasn't a joyous laugh; it was bitter and resenting. And it was aimed at the American.

"You... you honestly care about _my _well-being?" Arthur asked and rolled on to his side. He slowly climbed onto his knees and even though he was slightly off balance, he managed to get himself to his feet.

Alfred's frown remained as he stood also. He looked at his former guardian and asked, "What's gotcha down?"

Arthur swayed on the spot and when Alfred reached out to steady him, the older nation smacked his hand away and snapped, "Don't touch me!"

Alfred withdrew his hand quickly and blinked at Arthur's hostile attitude. There was something seriously wrong here and Alfred was going to be the hero and find out.

"Arthur, really... what's wrong? You're being horrible tonight!" he knew why Arthur was being like thus; it was the alcohol. Arthur's gentlemanly side went completely out the window as soon as he was drunk. The Englishman would turn into a delinquent (a violent one, at that) whenever he was drunk and it was usually Alfred that was left to take him home. Even if Arthur was with someone, such as France, he would be left until Alfred came to collect him (and France would go home with whoever he picked up that night). Alfred was never pleased about it, but Arthur was his friend and friends looked after each other. Or so he thought...

"You're horrible!" Arthur pointed at him and swayed again, "You're... you're... a fucking twat and I hate you!"

And Alfred was also used to Arthur cussing him out.

"Sure you do, Arthur," Alfred sighed a little and walked a little closer, "Come on, you should get home. You're drunk."

"Don't tell me what I am, you imbecile!"

Alfred knew defeat wasn't an option so he continued to press the matter, "Arthur, come on. Don't make me carry you."

"You will no such thing! If you do I swear to God I will find a way to kill you! Mark my words!"

Alfred sighed as Arthur glared at his former colony and moved the bottle of rum to his lips to take another deep swig. While he was distracted, Alfred took a hold of his arm and guided him back down the street. Arthur staggered beside him and with the American keeping a firm grip on him, he had no choice but to follow. He kept a good hold of his bottle of rum, though. There was no way he would surrender that to the other man. No chance in hell.

Alfred glanced over at the other man now and then, half of him to make sure he was still there, even though he knew he was. He hated seeing Arthur like this.

Nothing had happened recently that would send Arthur into spiralling depression so he didn't know why this was happening.

They walked down the path for a little longer, Arthur cursing under his breath and Alfred guiding him along so he wouldn't fall. The English nation decided he didn't like being led like a child so he tore his arm out of the younger's grip and walked on ahead. Alfred watched as the other man couldn't walk in a straight line, but he figured he wasn't doing any harm so he let him walk alone...

He decided he jinxed himself as Arthur managed to stumble and trip over his own feet. He landed harshly but by some miracle he managed to save the bottle of rum. Alfred hurried forward and helped Arthur to his feet and asked, "Dude, you okay?"

"Just... just fine!" Arthur replied and smiled in amusement. Alfred grabbed hold of Arthur's arm and inspected the graze that had appeared and he frowned again.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, not at all," he replied and attempted to move his arm away again, but Alfred wouldn't allow him to do so. He swiftly picked up the older nation and whilst ignoring his cried and strikes of protest he carried him home.

"Put me down at once!" Arthur demanded and struggled in his hold. This didn't seem to affect Alfred at all as he continued to carry Arthur (heroically, might I add) all the way home.

"No way! You fell and I don't trust you again," Alfred declared with a beaming smile and eventually walked down the garden path to the English nation's home, "Arthur, do you have your key?"

The answer came with a cheeky grin, "Yes."

"Where is it?"

"Go and find it." The grin remained. Alfred sighed and set Arthur to his feet then started his search for the house key. The older nation brought the bottle of rum to his lips and frowned to see it empty so he tossed the now useless bottle to the side. It landed on the grass with a soft thud and there was no doubt that Arthur would find it in the morning whilst nursing a sore head.

Alfred found what he was looking for and inserted the key into the lock and turned it. He pushed the door open and stepped inside and pulled Arthur with him. Keeping a firm grip on his wrist, he led the other nation into the living room and made him sit on the couch. Without another word, he walked into the kitchen and did his best to make Arthur some tea. When he thought he had it right, he walked back with the hot liquid and made Arthur take hold of the cup. Wordlessly he sat beside him and watched the older man. Arthur glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.

"What are you looking at?"

"Drink," Alfred commanded. Arthur could tell the other nation was annoyed. Now that he was slightly more sober, he was starting to see why. He looked down and sipped at the tea. He felt like a child who had just been told off by their parent. Oh how the situation had reversed.

"So... wanna tell me what happened?"

Arthur stayed quiet for a moment then started to talk, "I just wanted a drink, so I went to the pub... however I suppose I must have had a little too much—"

"A little?"

"All right, a lot... please don't rub it in..."

Alfred merely shrugged. It was he who had made a complete and total ass of himself so he didn't really care. Arthur continued, "I got kicked out, and I went to buy another bottle of rum from one of those shops that stay open late... and well, you know the rest. I assume I wasn't there long before you found me. I've just been wandering around."

"So why did you feel you had to go out and get drunk?"

"I told you... I felt like it," Arthur replied and sipped his tea again.

No matter how hard Alfred tried, he couldn't stay mad, "It's okay if you don't wanna tell me, just know that I'm here if you wanna talk, okay?"

He knew that Arthur wouldn't outright admit that he wanted to talk but he could see that the older man had silently accepted his offer of a friend as he finished his tea.

"Thank you..."

The two sat in silence and Alfred was too engrossed in his own thoughts to realise that Arthur had fallen asleep against his shoulder. When he was finally brought back to reality, he felt the slight weight on his shoulder and he glanced over to him with a smile.

He slowly and carefully wrapped an arm around the older man and held him in a tight embrace.

As he closed his eyes he failed to see the slight smile that graced itself upon Arthur's lips.

* * *

><p>AN: This isn't really romance, more of a friendship fic. Perhaps the beginning of a romance if you want to interpret the ending as such. I seem to enjoy using their given 'human' names rather than their nation names xD

I wrote this while watching Pride and Prejudice and now I want to write something similar to that ;A;

Anyway, enjoy this for the time being.

I'm being lazy with my stories; forgive me! ;A;


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